


Shatter My Bones

by TheZiallHorlikBible



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Chauffeur - Freeform, Coming of Age, Cute, F/M, I just had too, I promise, Love, Romeo and Juliet References, They don't have underage sex, Wealthy, age gap, audi, forbidden relationship, underage in the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:46:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheZiallHorlikBible/pseuds/TheZiallHorlikBible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sybil Crawley feels locked away like rapunzel in her tower. She has all of the extravagant things in life, but she wants nothing more than a good book, a political discussion, a valued opinion, and the gorgeous Irish driver. </p><p>Modern Day Downton Abbey</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shatter My Bones

Downton Abbey

She stared out of her window boredly, twiddling her thumbs and sighing in exhasperation. it was a truly dreary day for mid July, the rain pelting down relentlessly across the pristine, green grass. She had never been the kind of girl to sit indoors and enjoy it. 

Her blue eyes trailed across their vast lawn, face smooshed up against her hand (which she had decided to use to hold her head up, holding it up without assistance was too much work on a day like this). She scrunched up her nose, "Well, at least the flowers will continue to grow." she mused to herself, shaking her head while her eyes trailed over to the garden where the flowers where being assaulted by the dreadful rain. 

Young Sybil Branson was only sixteen years old, and she felt bit like Rapunzel. Though she had loads of pretty things to dress up in, she remained trapped in a tower unable to experience the beautiful world outside.

Her parents really did mean well, giving the three of their daughters all of the luxury that a family of their high status could afford. But they were protective almost to excess. They wanted very specific things from their children. The wanted nothing more than for the girls to be happily married with tons of lovely children (and hopefully at least one boy to inherit the property).

Sybil snorts whenever thinking about it, sighing solemnly. She felt trapped inside of a world of luxury and grandeur, never able to see the world as it truly exists outside of their walls. She stands up slowly, looking at herself in the floor length mirror, hanging proudly their on her wall. "They think that my beauty is the only important thing that they've given me." she mumbled hopelessly, turning away from her reflection before moving to het dressed. 

She pulled a midnight blue dress from her closet, making sure that it was in perfect condition before pulling her dark hair back into a high ponytail, looking at her profile in the mirror and huffing annoyedly, 

Storming out of her bedroom, her steps echoed, paralleling the thunder outside. She held her head high, skipping to the staircase and nearly running over her eldest sister, gasping. 

"Really, Sybbie? Why are you always in everyone's way?" Mary questioned, giving her a pointed look before moving to brush past her. "Don't call me that!" Sybil said, scrunching up her nose, "it makes me sound like a three year old. I am not a child, Mary." She added, looking up at the back of Mary's head. "You'll always be a baby to me, Sybil." she said a bit harshly, "and Edith and ai have a party tonight. It obviously isn't here, so stay out of trouble while we're away, and please don't d anything stupid." she added before continuing her ascent up the steps. 

Sybil sighed again, turning on her heels and continuing down the steps. 

 

Of course they have a party. It's a Friday night, and they're both oh so eligible. She can't help but think, making her way to the library, not running into anyone else on the way. She had already read almost half of the books that her family owned, and she looked around warily, not knowing what to pull of of the shelf to check out.

A good forty minutes later, she settled on grabbing one of her favorites, The Tempest. 

"There is not only disgrace and dishonor in that, monster, but an infinite loss." she quoted seriously, signing the ledger before tucking the worn old book between her arm and her side, and exiting to find a quiet place for her to sit down and read without interruption. 

Today (for once) the entire house seems silent, "It's only chaotic in the bedrooms," she reminded herself gravely, chuckling, "After all, everyone has a party to prepare for. Everyone but you." 

Sybil had always spoken to herself frequently, seeking a sort of company that she could only ever find through herself. She was different than her entire family, and most members of the staff found it inappropriate to be speaking with her about things that didn't concern their work. 

It was a rather lonely existence, sitting in her house alone all of the time. 

"Sybil, Darling!" she heard her mother yell out from upstairs, the voice calm and collected as ever. She glanced up to where her mother's voice had come from, and she stood up, shutting her book and making her way up the flight of steps. She wandered into her mother's room where Anna was helping to pull her hair into a beautiful undo. 

"I have convinced your father that it is alright for you to come and join us tonight." she said,a kind, warm smile gracing her wonderful features. Sybil had always admired her mother's grace. Cora had an air about her, always controlled and in charge of situations. Sybil forced herself to act both surprised and excited, grinning at her mother through the mirror.

"Wow, really? And who's house will it be at, then?" she asked, the words tumbling from her mouth smoothly and happily. She was relieved with her tone, moving closer to her mom. 

"Oh, it's just at the Carlisle's home." she said, "Their son, Richard, seems to be absolutely taken by Mary. Isn't that exciting?" she asked, standing up and going to her closet, flipping through her dresses. 

"Of course! It's absolutely wonderful, and I'm happy for her. What kind of party is it?" she asked, changing the subject and looking around her parent's tidy room, messing with the hem of her dress. 

"It's black tie, sweetheart. Call Gwen up to help you with your hair and makeup. And why don't you put on that pretty green dress?" her mother suggests, pulling out an elegant black dress for herself. 

Sybil only nodded her head once, thanking her mother for the opportunity before going down the long hallway to her bedroom, texting Gwen before pulling the dress out, feeling the soft material between her fingertips. It was a deep, forest kind of green, sleeveless and structured with a corset top and a ball gown sort of bottom. The color always looked stunning on her, contrasting with her light, cream-colored skin.

She looked up, surprise on her face when the bedroom door opened. 

Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Sybil." Gwen rushed out with a blush, "I didn't mean to make you jump." She explained, and Sybil shook her head, pulling the ponytail from her thick hair, tossing it aside. 

"Stop that. I have told you just about a billion times to call me Sybil. Just Sybil." she said, throwing her hands up dramatically with a laugh, although exasperation was evident in her tone. Gwen giggled along with her.

"Sorry, just Sybil. It's a force of habit." she muttered, glancing down at Sybil's dress. "It's absolutely gorgeous. I think that it would take me months to save up and afford it." Gwen said, her voice coming out quieter than normal. She looked up to Sybil smiling softly.

 

"okay. So how about I get your hair and makeup while you paint your nails?" Gwen offered, and Sybil scrunched up her nose. 

"I'm absolutely rubbish at painting my nails; you know that. How about I do makeup while you do hair, and then you can do my nails?" she asked hopefully, and Gwen just nodded. 

Gwen was essentially the closest thing to a friend that Sybil had (which was incredibly sad. After all, Gwen is only ever there because she is paid to be). Sybil quite liked Gwen. Gwen was intelligent and witty and everything that Sybil wished that she, herself, had the opportunity to be. She respected Gwen, and Gwen respected her. 

Sybil set out her makeup, beginning with primer and progressing through a full face, ending with two coats of jet black mascara. The silver eyeshadow brought out the gentle blue of her eyes. She stared at herself in the mirror, watching Gwen carefully pin her hair up into a well put together sort of updo, a smile spreading across her face. 

"Wow, you should consider being a hair stylist." she commented, reaching up to touch one of the curls gently, turning to get a better view of the dark hair, curled beautifully. 

Gwen just shook her head, chuckling. "No, Sybil...I'm actually lucky to have even landed this job. I'm not really qualified to do much of anything. Even hair stylists have to pat to go to school." she shrugged, hoping that Sybil would just drop the matter completely, jot pushing her to try anything. 

"There must be something else that you'd like to do though? Aside from helping me do trivial things all day long. I mean, there are obviously better ways for you to spend your time. And besides, I can take care of myself." Sybil stated defiantly, a small glint in her bright blue eyes. "In fact, Gwen, I can take care of myself. If you have better things to be doing, you should be out doing them." 

Gwen just smiled knowingly, not in the mood to explain herself to the youngest Crawley. "Ah, but who would be there to paint your nails, lady Sybil?" she questioned, waggling her eyebrows, and Sybil rolled her eyes dramatically, clutching at her heart, "Oh, how dreadful! However will I look posh at my parties without the nail art from you Gwen." 

Both of the girls laughed gleefully, Sybul clapping her hands together happily. She loved when Gwen and her were like this, natural and laughing and nothing more than friends. 

"but seriously, I would figure it out. I can figure it out." she corrected herself, and Gwen nodded, pulling out a full bottle of pigmented silver nail polish that matched her eyeshadow almost perfectly. 

 

"of course, milady." Gwen teased, sitting down on her chair and befinning to coat Sybil's fingernails in a dense, sparkly silver.

"Ew, please don't call me that. This isn't 1920, Gwen." she scoffed, causing the older girl to laugh happily. 

"No, Just 2014." she said, nodding once. "But when I'm in this house, it feels like time has stopped. Like I'm stuck in an era that I wasn't meant to be in in the first place." 

"At least you can leave." Sybil found herself blurting out, tensing a bit at her own statement. The air felt still then, tense. Sybil stared down at her hands, and Gwen had no idea what to say in response to that, taking Sybil's unpainted hand and squeezing it reassuringly. 

"I mean, at least if you chose that, it would be your choice. You don't understand just how wonderful the privilege of choice is. I do." she said, still avoiding eye contact, "it's just...I'm stuck here." 

"Well, it must be the only privilege that I have, milady." she joked again, laughing at her own joke. she ignored Sybil's second statement, figuring that it wasn't something that the two of them needed to discuss.

Sybil joined in, not really finding it funny at all. 

"Well, I better go help in the kitchen. It's just a staff dinner tonight. We really like not having to prepare things for you lot. Party nights are the best of nights." and Gwen was gone as quickly as she had came. 

~~~~~

Sybil stared out at the floor where tons of pristinely dressed almost-nobles paraded each other around, showing each other off. Sybil quickly found that those sort of parties are incredibly dull. There were waiters everywhere, holding trays of chilled champagne everywhere, readily available to each attendee. Boring young men were offering snobby young women to the floor, escorting them out to dance, each step in perfect synch. It reminded her of her younger days in cotillion: everything over calculated and excessively stupid. 

She sat beside Cora for almost the entire night, picking at her fingernails, hands folded delicately in her lap and socializing when she felt obligated to. A few hours into their night, a handsome young man in a perfectly prepared suit walked over to her. He was absolutely dashing with clear skin, green eyes and blond hair. He offered her his hand, and she froze a bit, glancing over to her father with wide eyes before placing her hand in his, allowing herself to be led out onto the dance floor. 

He was the most uninteresting human being that she could have possibly dreamed of. Boring, ignorant, unaware and completely obnoxious, he chattered obliviously, spouting out facts about his stupid, rich family, casually mentionioning how he could not wait to have a sexy young housewife to lounge around in next to nothing and have sex with, a woman to raise his children (and preferably a tall blonde with huge tits).

Sybil clenched her jaw, thinking over his ignorant comments.

"I apologize, but I no longer wish to dance with you." she forced out, trying (and failing horribly) to keep the edge out of his voice, completely annoyed by the atrocious young man. She turned on her heels, walking briskly back to the table and informing her father that she wanted to go home before turning around to exit the mansion. 

 

"You are not leaving, Sybil." he said, his voice both low and assertive, trying to avoid drawing attention to the situation at hand. She replied much louder than her father would have liked her to, "And I do not care if you think that these are the kind of stupid young men that I should be married off to and shipped away with. There are more important things than knowing how to be a good trophy wife!"

Her words were loud and clipped, and many of the adults were eyeing her warily, not prepared for such a rude disruption. 

"And I will gladly sit in the car for the next three hours if need be." And her last words were projected intentionally so that essentially every attendee could hear them clearly. Robert glanced around, his expression sowing how completely mortified he was.

"Sybil Crawley, go out to the car. Sit in the backseat, and do not say another word. I will be out in a few moments." his words were quiet and clipped, only heard by Sybil, herself. She nodded once, holding her head high proudly as she exited the house, going and sitting in the back as she was told to, her mind flashing back over the night over and over again. 

Her father was absolutely fuming as he stormed out to the car, slamming the door.   
"Sybil Crawley. This is not the kind of event where your feministic, futuristic beliefs are acceptable or welcome. I expect you to write the Carlisles a nice, long, and apologoferic letter, explaining that you were merely tired and aggravated." he snapped, clenching his jaw harshly. 

"And I do not care if you disagree. I will begin monitoring what you are reading better, and you will have more lessons with your governess." he added. "and you will spend less time reading those books." 

Sybil sat silently for a moment, her face contorting a bit, "no, my beliefs are not futuristic. It's only that yours are archaic." she said quietly, looking down at her hands. "you will never stop me from believing that I have just as much of a right to work as you. I am a human too." she objected. 

"Sybil, that is enough. Not another word is to come out of you." he practically hissed, and the rest of the drive was silent. 

He dropped her off outside of the property. The cold summer night bit at her skin, and she wrapped her arms around herself. After watching her father drive back down the road, she sighed, reaching down to pull off her heels. Her feet sunk in the mud, left over from the earlier downpour. The mud seeped through her hose, cold against her skin. Once she arrived at the front door, she knocked, smiling weakly up at Carson when he answered. 

 

"Good evening, Miss Sybil. Should I hold the door for the rest of the family? You are awfully early tonight." he said kindly, and Sybil shook her head. She looked down at her hands. She felt uncomfortable, like Cinderella going back home after the ball, dress tattered and covered in mud. 

"No, Carson. Thank you. I am here alone so that will definitely not be necessary." she explained before turning around, pausing and looking over her shoulder, "Carson? Can you apologize to whoever has to clean the floor for me?" she questioned, looking down at her muddy footprints. He nodded, and she turned back around, going up the stairs and to her room, stripping from her dress and pulling on a pajama set before tearing the pins from her hair, throwing them on the dresser, sniffling. 

She hid her face in her hands, curls falling in front of his eyes. She knew that she needed to shower, washing all of the grime and uncomfort from her body. She sulked to the bathroom, heating up the shower before stepping under the stream of water, sniffling. 

She didn't understand why being rich made her only capable of bearing children and attending snuffy dinner parties. 

After twenty minutes in the shower, she got out, drying off and pulling her pajamas back on, staring at the girl in the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her hair was sopping wet, soaking through the soft fabric of her sleepwear. She turned off the lights, storming to her bed and hiding beneath her duvet. 

She fell asleep that night, having an excessive amount of nightmares. 

~~~~~~~

The next day at breakfast, Mr. Crawley announced that he had put out an add for a chauffeur.

When Sybil rolled her eyes, he stared at her. 

"Do not roll your eyes at me, young lady. You are the cause of this." he explained, "since none of you girls know how to drive, the driver will be in charge of taking you places where you need to go. He can also help in case we have a problem as we did last night." he snapped. When no one said anything, he went on, finishing his speech. 

"I will be interviewing and taking applications for a short while, but soon here will be another member of our staff." he said, still staring at Sybil. 

"And please. Try not to convince this one to leave and do better things." Sybil didn't even flinch at his harsh tone, eating her breakfast slowly, standing up when she finished. The room felt almost like it was spinning, buy she showed no sign of it, smoothing out her skirt before beginning to leave. 

"Sybil Crawley. You did not ask to be excused." he reprimanded, and she paused, clenching and unclenching her jaw. 

"Very good, father. I'm glad that you pay attention." she said, her tome completely condescendin, before going up to her room, slamming the door before sitting on her bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

Sybil Crawley didn't often feel sorry for herself. She frequently despised her situation, and she wished that things could be different. But she almost never pitied herself. There were so many people worse off, and she never let herself forget that. But today, she was the last person on earth that would ever want to be her. Today, she would take starvation and poverty over being Miss Sybil Crawley.

She only glanced up when there was a knock on her door. 

Cora entered, surveying the dark room before moving to sit beside her. Sybil looked away meekly, expecting to be screamed at again, reprimanded for her bad behaviour. Instead, Cora kept quiet, reaching over to place her hand on Sybil's shoulder gently. 

"Sybil, dear. What has gotten into you?" The question was simple, but it couldn't have felt any more complicated. But at least she didnt sound even remotely angry at her youngest child, more exhasperated than anything else.

"I don't know, mother." she admitted softly, glancing up quickly, meaning to only look for a second, but she met Cora's eyes through the vanity mirror, feeling stuck there, her mouth hanging open dumbly. 

"Would you like to talk about what happened last night?" she asked, and Sybil shrugged, laying back on the bed, her curls pinned up against her head, pins digging into her scalp. 

"He was perfectly dreadful, all of the things that I would never wish for in a partner." she exclaimed softly, staring up at the ceiling, shaking her head bitterly. 

"You mean in a husband?" her mother questioned, and she laughed, shaking her head. 

"I don't like the word husband. It makes me feel inferior. I am not inferior." she assured, and Cora laughed warmly, nodding. She had never underestimated her daughter. "of course you aren't. But you are looking for a husband, my dear. Whether you wish to call him that or not...you aren't gay are you?" her mother questioned, and Sybil frowned. 

"I'm a feminist, not a lesbian." she all but snapped, apologizing right after. Her mother did not deserve her anger. She had never been really angry or annoyed with her mother. 

"Well then, husband it is." Cora assured, smiling down at her daughter before speaking yet again, "Now, your father is incredibly unhappy with you at the moment." she said, shrugging. 

"And i'm afraid that you'll be trapped inside for a while." 

Sybil just nodded; she had figured as much. 

Her mother kissed her forehead before exiting, leaving Sybil alone on her bed, flopping back down, analyzing the crisp white ceiling above her head and sighing annoyedly. 

She was Rapunzel yet again. 

~~~~~~~~

Two months was an awfully long time to be trapped inside the walls of her house, two blasted months before she was even allowed to step foot off of the property. They were sitting in the dining room at breakfast, and she was nibbling absently at her piece of bread when her mother cleared her throat before speaking out, looking at Robert calmly. 

"Sybil and I will be going out shopping today." she announced, her voice clear. She sipped at her tea afterwards before smiling graciously. Her words caught young Sybil's attention, causing the girl to look up from her half empty plate, a smile ghosting on her lips. 

"Are you sure that that is a good idea?" Robert questioned, his tone a bit weary, and Sybil's smile disappears, a frown pushing it's way onto her face. You cannot keep me locked in this castle forever. I am not rapunzel. You are no evil step mother. She thought defiantly, shoving the rest of her toast in her mouth, downing the rest of her tea immediately afterwards. Mary gave her a warning look. Cora nodded. 

"Of course I'm sure, Robert. It is nearly autumn, and we need to get Sybilnher new clothes. We do this every single year. In fact, we're already late." she reminded, looking out the large windows at the soon to be changing leaves of the trees, evanescent green surrounding the house, "And she has been grounded for far too long. Besides, you wouldn't want her wearing a year old dress for her seventeenth birthday dinner. She needs a new dress in order o properly celebrate." Cora reasoned, and Robert only nodded, hislips pressed into a tight line. 

"Fine, Branson will take you. I'll send him a message as soon as we're done with breakfast." 

And Sybil's mind was swimming for the rest of the meal, dashing this way then that, never ceasing, always moving. When the breakfast was over, Sybil was the first to stand, looking around the table to take in each face. Mary seemed bored, Robert looked wary, Edith looked at her plate, and Cora was smiling up at her warmly. She thanked them politely before disappearing upstairs and into her room, an unfaltering smile on her lips. 

Once her wooden door was carefully closed behind her, she dashed to the closet, throwing th doors open and rummaging through her still-perfect-year-old dresses, laying dormant and beautiful inside. Her hands ran over the soft fabrics, different colors jumping out at her eyes. She sighed, settling on q nice, pastel pink colored sundress. It was soft cotton and empire waisted, cut just high enough to hide her chest. The garment fell just above her knee. 

He tossed it on to the bed, walking over to her vanity, applying a light layer of mascara and some blusher before pulling her hair up haphazardly, scrunching her nose as the horrible result. She pulled the hair band out, tossing it aside and brushing through her wild curls. 

He stared at her reflection in the mirror. She very rarely left her hair down and natural, always having it pinned up and styled in a posh manner, never seeming even remotely unkempt. But she quite liked it down, finding it beautiful and wild and free. Her long dark hair framed her face, bringing out the blue in her eyes. 

She sighed, reminding herself that she couldn't just leave it that way, but today her stupid hair seemed helpless. And she genuinely couldn't have cared any less. Her head snapped up at the sound of knuckles on her door. 

"Come in." she called out, a smile in her voice. When she saw that it was her mother, her expression lit up a bit. Cora was dressed in an orange summer dress that covered her up, ending just above her sandals. Sybil had always been amazed my the careless kind of beauty that her mother possessed. She was always completely stunning, lighting up every room that she walked into. Sybil had never been like that, not very good in social situations. 

"This is a nice dress." her mother noted, looking down at the pale fabric spread out on the bed, contrasting the clean, cream-colored duvet. Sybil nodded, looking over as well. 

"It's one of my favorites." Sybil agreed, running her brush through her curls for what felt like the billionth time, playing with them absentmindedly. Her mother pulled up Gwen's chair, sitting down and meeting her gaze through the mirror. 

"Would you like me to braid it, Sybbie?" she questioned, and Sybil scrunched up her nose. 

"When are you all going to stop calling my that?" she demanded, sounding distressed, "Honestly, that hasn't been okay since I was twelve." 

Cora laughed, "Perhaps we do it because you're our baby. And you always will be our baby, no matter how old you get. Now, would you like me to braid your hair?" she said in response, and Sybil just nodded her head. 

Her mother smiled at that, reaching forward to gather her hair, setting to work on braiding the coarse hair, making sure that it looked absolutely beautiful, her dark hair perfectly plaited. Cora turned the braid into a low side bun, using Bobby pins to secure the hairstyle. 

Sybil admired her mothers work, thanking her happily. 

Cora shook her head, "No dear. There is really no need to thank me." she assured, standing up, "I'll be downstairs. Come down as soon as you're dressed and ready to go." Cora said, smiling warmly before turning around, exiting just as gracefully as she had come. The air changed when Sybil was alone again. 

Sybil stood up, her eyes looking out the window, the family's Audi pulling up to the front of the house. Sleek and black, reflecting the morning sunlight. Turning away, she discarded her breakfast dress, pulling on the soft sundress and sighing softly, the material as wonderful as ever. She took another look at herself in the mirror before reaching for a pair of nude ballet flats, carrying them downstairs to find her mother. 

She smiled, finding Cora sitting with a book in the front room. She looked up, smiling. 

"Off we go, then?" Sybil asked, smiling widely, allowing her mother to lead her out into the warm sun. Sybil looked up at the sky happily, taking in the blue and the clouds. It was a wonderful day for freedom. 

She looked back down when she heard the door open. When the driver exited the vehicle, coming around to open the door for Cora, he stopped in his tracks, his blue eyes widening as he spotted Sybil clad in her soft pink summer dress. 

"Oh, Branson, this is our youngest daughter, Sybil." Cora said, gesturing to the young woman, staggered behind her just slightly. 

He seemed taken aback by the mere existence of young Sybil, offering her a smile that reached all the way up to his seaside eyes. "Good morning, Miss. It's a pleasure to meet you." And his voice was smooth and exotic. Oh my god, he's Irish. Sybil thought, returning the smile. 

"Yes, a pleasure to meet you as well." she said, suddenly feeling very hot in the loose pink dress, suffocated by the gaze of the beautiful man in front of her. She shook it off, glancing at the car, and Branson moved immediately, opening the door for Cora first before moving to the other side. 

"I've got it." Sybil said, following him over and swatting his hand away from the door. He looked heitant, like he wasn't sure of what to do in the current situation, a beautiful girl pushing him away from his gentlemanly responsibilities. 

"Honestly, I'm a woman, not a cripple. I don't need help opening the door. This isn't 1920, Mr. Branson." She explained, no bitterness or malice hidden in her words. For the first time, she was aware that a man had really just meant well.

She got into the car, sitting behind the driver, sighing softly. Ahe tore her attention away from the back of his head to look at her mother. 

"So, where is it that we are heading?" she asked. "Just the usual." Cora assured, smiling. "It's really an excuse to get you out of the house." she admitted, smiling knowingly. 

Sybil laughed, nodding. "I had figured as much." she stated, and the rest of the ride into town was filled with mindless chatter. 

When they pulled up in front of the expensive outlet, Branson got out, opening the door for Cora, sighing when he saw Sybil already standing on the sidewalk. She laughed to herself, waiting for her mother and nodding to Branson before turning to enter the store, looking around. 

Cora immediately got to work, sifting through racks and racks of fabric, pulling out dresses for her to try on. Sybil watched her for a moment before walking to where they kept the tailored pants, grabbing a four pairs and draping them over her arm. "Sybil?" she heard from behind her, spinning to smile at her mother. 

"We've never had a rule against me owning some pants." she defended, "I won some jeans and some sweats. And pajama pants too." she argued, and her mother smiled back at her reassuringly. Sybil held the pants to her chest as if she were trying to protect them. 

 

"I didn't tell you to put the pants back, although I don't see the point. You have nowhere to wear them too." her mother explained simply, and Sybil shrugged, "Perhaps something will come up? Perhaps I can wear them when I'm reading or something?" 

Cora nodded, taking the clothes. She saw no point in arguing with Sybil, knowing that argument would only make her want the pants more. "Come along, let's go get these tried on." she said warmly. 

After hours of shopping, they only had one thing left, her birthday dress. 

"Come on, Sybil. We'll have Branson take us to Franchesca's. They're sure to either have something or to create something absolutely wonderful for yur seventeenth." she assured, leading Sybil out, bags in both of their arms. 

Branson was out as soon as he saw them, rushing over and taking the bags, securing them in the trunk before opening the door for Cora. Sybil opened her own door, slipping inside, and he shook his head a bit, chuckling. 

Franchesca's was actually empty on that particular day, and Sybil combed through the racks slowly, looking over all of the pretty dressed. the jewel tones assaulted her eyes, bright colors begging to be noticed. 

"What about this one, Dear?" her mother questioned, holding up an emerald green mermaid dress. Sybil looked over her shoulder, nodding dismissively. 

"Well, it's quite beautiful." she said. "I'll try it on, I guess." her words came out noncommittal as she went back to her search, eyes falling on a gorgeous gown. It was a deep, nighttime blue with black lace detail. She held it up. 

"Mother, it's absolutely perfect." she mused, grinning. 

Her mother looked over the dress. 

"Wouldn't you like something a bit more festive?" she asked, unsure, but Sybil shook her head rapidly. 

"No, no it's perfect. It's beautiful. With silver jewelry? And black heels? It'll be perfect." she assured, and her mother nodded. "alright, we'll get the green one too, though. Just in case you accompany us to another party. This year. We wouldn't want you to be at all unprepared." her mother explained, and Sybil nodded.

"Of course, whatever you think best." she said, her eyes still on the blue gown.

While they walked out to the Audi, Sybil sighed. "Mother, can we go by the library?" she asked, looking up at Cora. Cora frowned a bit, shaking her head.

"I'm afraid not, Sybil, Darling." she said, her voice almost apologetic. 

Sybil frowned, looking over to where Branson was putting the dresses in the back carefully, making sure that neither would be damaged on the drive back. 

"I was just hoping that I could maybe check out a few books and see if there are any book clubs or something that I might join. They have the bulletin, yeah?" she explained, "And since I'm not actually trapped inside anymore, I just figured that I would broaden my horizons. I've already read practically everything in the library." 

Cora sighed, nodding, "Another time then?" she offered. "When I don't have to meet so many of the women from the club for tea. We're discussing who's going to host the balls during which months." she explained. 

Sybil couldn't help but feel incredibly bored of that, and right before she pulled off into the car, she spun around, grinning. "Well, what if Branson took you home and then came right back to get me?" she said, clasping her hands together in what could only look like prayer. 

"It will be plenty time. Enough for me to pick a book or two and then check the postings, I promise. I'll be on my very best behavior, won't cause a single problem." she pleaded. 

Cora looked to Branson unsurely, and he smiled. 

"It would be no bother, Mrs. Crawley. It is my job, after all." he explained, and she nodded. 

"Okay, but Sybil, do not do anything that your father or I would disprove of." she demanded, and Sybil nodded. 

Fifteen minutes from then, Sybil was browsing bookshelves, scooping up four books in half an hour before going to look at the bulletin board. She saw an ad almost immediately that caught her eye. 

It was for a book club the met every week or every other week that was entirely made up of women. She looked at the list of things that they were reading and felt absolutely elated. She grabbed one of the flyers and carefully folded it, tucking it between the pages of one of her novels. 

Branson was waiting patiently, and he smiled, getting out and opening the door for her for the first time. 

"I knew that your hands would be full eventually." he said, tone triumphant, and she laughed, rolling her eyes and getting in. He nodded once before shutting the door, and Sybil watched him closely, eyes on the back of his head yet again. 

The first bit if the drive was quiet. It took a good half hour to get from that part of town back out to the estate, and Sybil was practically just twiddling her thumbs in the backseat. 

"If you don't mind, can I ask you something?" he asked, and it shocked her from her thoughts. Her head jerking up from where it had been, downcast analyzing her book covers. 

"Uh, yeah, of course you can." she said, stumbling a bit on her words. 

"I've been working for your family for almost two months, and I honestly didn't even know that you existed. What did you do? To get grounded for such a long time?" she noted that he sounded incredibly nervous, almost like he wasn't sure if it was exceptable to ask. 

"I made a scene at a very important party...in front of almost all of our family friends." she offered, cheeks tinged pink. 

She could see his eyebrows raise in the rearview mirror. 

"But you must have had a reason? You don't seem like that type to just freak out and cause a scene." he argued, and she nodded. 

"One of the stupid boys was going off about how all he wanted was trophy wife to have sex and children with. It was absolutely mortifying. I mean, I was dancing with a child who only saw me as a piece of meat. I excused myself and told my father that I would wait in the car, he refused...I got angry. He tried to hush me, so I started yelling." she wasn't sure why she was telling the chauffeur the story, but he was laughing by the end. 

"He sounds like a right arse. You were smart to get away from a guy like that." Branson agreed, nodding. "No one deserves to be treated as an object instead of a person." he said, and she actually felt a flood of relief. He was the first person to have sided with her at all. 

"And if you would ever like to thank someone for your job, it should be me and not my father. We began looking for a chauffeur so that my father could be spared the embarrassment. If anything like that happens again, I can just go home. I don't know how to drive, so I he had to take me home. He was so mortified. the worst part was that he forced me to write a note to both the family who hosted the party and the boy himself. I had to say that I was merely just edgy due to lack of sleep, that I didn't know what had come over me. But I didn't do anything wrong!" 

"I completely agree, Miss." he said, and she flushed red at that, keeping quiet for the rest of the journey. She felt strange about using the chauffeur, who was both staff and a stranger, as a confidant. 

She thanked him graciously before getting out of the car, dropping one of the books in the process. Before she was even aware, Tom was handing it to her. "Y'know. That wouldn't have been a problem if you had let me get the door for you." he said, and she could tell that he was teasing. 

"I just like doing things on my own, is all." she explained, shrugging. 

"I can tell. A Vindication of The rights of Woman and Sexual Politics? You're a feminist." he said, glancing back down at the two books whose titles he had seen. 

Sybil blushed, nodding slowly, "And the Awakening. And A Room of One's Own." she offered, and he laughed. "Well, I better take the car to the garage, happy reading." Branson said, tipping his cap before walking to the front seat. 

Sybil turned away, rushing inside and up to her room, hiding the books at the bottom of her closet where Gwen had already hung all of her new dresses, the old ones disappeared. 

Sybil sighed loudly, wandering over to the window, opening the blinds and narrowing her eyes a bit, the chauffeur catching her eye again. 

"Mr. Branson." she whispered, chuckling to herself and shaking her head, "Mr. Branson." she said again, nodding a bit. "And he's Irish." she added, plopping down and looking at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed pink from earlier. 

"Mr. Br-"

"Sybil! Dinner is in an hour. Do you want help getting ready?" she hears gwwen ask from the corner, freezing and whipping her head around. 

"Oh, Uh, yes please, Gwen." she said. "Except I think I could get away with just changing my clothes...so I'm actually fine." she explained, and gwen nodded. 

"Okay, just text me if you need anything." she said. Sybil nodded, "Oh! And gwen...if you wanted the green dress, the one that I wore the other night, you're more than welcome to have it. It'll go nicely with your hair." she said, and Gwen thanked her. 

Sybil nodded, assuring her that she would text if need be, waiting for her to leave before peeking through the blinds once again, but the Irish chauffeur was nowhere in sight.


End file.
